


Don't Go

by LotharWinchester



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Spanish, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Jax's Jesus Christ is used as much as in the show, Mentions of Cancer, Not Beta Read, Past Child Abuse, Scars, googled languages, this is an old fic for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 03:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotharWinchester/pseuds/LotharWinchester
Summary: With ever constant friction between the Mayans and the Nords, the last thing the Club needs is another body on their hands. Near death and almost unidentifiable, Aiden comes clean to receive protection.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own anything SOA related, just my oc.
> 
> cross posted on Fanfiction. forgot I hadn't posted it on here. posted on ff: 2/16/13, last updated: 3/3/13.

_“…is he dead?”_

_“Hush Juciey Boy, I can’t help him with ye breathin down my neck.”_   Rough hands slid against torn clothing in an attempt to help stop the bleeding. _“Call Jax ‘n have him get Tara to the clubhouse.”_

The sound of leather boots scuffing the asphalt started fading out. A myriad of sounds including a constant ringing and an engine starting up in the distance slowly wound through the thick haze.   How long had it been? Five seconds…? Five minutes?  It didn’t matter. Why couldn’t these voices just go away? They didn’t sound like Mayans or those Nazi pricks. 

 _“Hey Lad,”_ the voice should’ve been louder. Unrelenting pressure built up. _“Lad, stay with me.”_ The same rough hands started feeling for something. _“Holy Shite.”_

* * *

The Scotsman could hardly think between Juice’s frantic call and the sight of blood dripping constantly from the man’s ears below him.  

“Tara’s already there, Chibs.” Juice frowned as the Scot cursed. “What?”

The elder man shook his head and continued to peel off layers of clothing. He tossed a shattered helmet over his shoulder and ripped off the remains of a leather jacket to clear his head before he motioned for Juice to lift up the man’s legs. “Get ‘em in.”

* * *

 

“Jesus Christ.” Jax Teller shook his head as Tara leaned over the body spread out over the redwood table. As if they already didn’t have enough shit to deal with.

“Oh, it gets better.” Chibs  rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index fingers. “Here.”

Jax took the held out wallet from the Scotsman’s hand. He flipped it open and did a double take from the body back to the ID in the wallet. “Holy Shit.”

 

 


	2. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't own soa, only my ocs  
> .
> 
> gods, i can tell i wrote this 4 years ago lol.

She’s stable now.” Tara cleared her throat to ease the tension in the room. “She’s lucky the bullets went through.” 

“Jax,” Chibs sighed heavily as he ran his right hand through his hair, “She was so covered that I…”

“Had no idea that he was a _she_?” Jax scoffed and turned to Tara who had started to shake her head.

“Chibs had every right to think so.” She gently grasped Jax’s hand and pulled him closer to the unconscious girl with slight hesitation, “Look.”

A blue rain tarp had been placed on the redwood table to prevent it from being stained with the girl’s blood. Her thick brown hair had forcibly been shaved near bald and now, in plain sight, her chest lacked something… a key identifier; breasts.  Deep, near freshly healed wounds replaced the soft tissue and continued down her abdomen and flowed to her back along her hip bones.  Cigarette burns and smaller scars continued down her legs to the top of her feet on her left foot and underneath on both.

Chibs subconsciously traced his own facial scars as he turned away while Tara tried to retain her composure.  Jax pulled her into his arms and replaced the sheet Tara had used to cover the girl.  A pregnant silence fell between the three of them until Tara finally found her voice.

“She had to have been in a lot of pain before she...” She wiped away her tears and pushed her bangs from her eyes. “She was shot five times. All of them had just missed being life threatening by centimeters.”  He gently pushed away from Jax and placed her hand on a thin patch of hair on the girl’s head. “Can someone bring some extra clothes in here please?”

“Of course, love.” Chibs stood and promptly left to find some.  Jax stood at the opposite end of the President’s seat and eyed Tara as she cleaned her tools in a metal bucket full of water.

“Jesus Christ.”

* * *

She woke up to the harsh smell of bleach and blood. Her head spun and almost instantaneously began to throb. 

_I thought being dead wasn’t supposed to be painful._

“Jax,” She no longer had to strain to hear the Scotsman’s voice. “She’s awake.”

She didn’t bother to open her eyes instead she reached up slowly and attempted to run a hand through her hair.

_Right, I’ve got no hair._

“Hey Darlin,” her head moved to the general direction of the voice. “You’re safe now.” He paused briefly at her nonchalance. “Can you tell me your name?”

“I prefer Aiden.” She struggled to talk. Her throat was coarse from swallowing road dirt.  She kept her eyes closed.

“Alright Darlin. Aiden it is.” Aiden could hear his smile and felt the familiar chill of an ice cold glass against the palm of her hand. “Drink some of this. Doctor’s orders.”

She tensed as a hand slid underneath her to help her up. “It’s alright, love.” The Scotsman whispered. “I’m not gonna hurt yah.”

Aiden nodded once and a harsh soreness slithered its way through her spine into her legs and arms. Her hand waivered and the Scot lightly laid his hand on hers for support.  It was only when she tried to take a sip that she opened her eyes.

The blonde that stood at the end of the table she assumed was Jax. The door to his right was closed and a long haired brunette leaned against it after it closed.  She wanted to put the now half full cup down but the Scot refused. “Yah need to drink all of it love.”

Aiden very nearly rolled her eyes which the other woman caught and laughed lightly at.  Once the glass was finished, he let her hand go and took the cup.

“That’s Jax’s old lady, Tara.” He stated as she came over and took the cup from her. “She’s the Doc that saved yah.”

“Thanks Doc,” Aiden smiled as she wiggled her toes and bent each knee. Every part of her was a bit sore. “I take it you all saw the rest of my scars?”

The other three tensed and Aiden felt the supportive hand leaver her backside. She glanced up and saw the frown on the Scotsman’s face.

“Only the three of us.” Tara nodded to each member present in the room and then pointed at herself. “Chibs is the one who found you along with another member outside…”

“Juice.” Jax’s brow furled at this. “I vaguely remember them talking while someone searched me…”

“That would be me.” Chibs gently rest a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry about callin you a boy.”

“I’m used to it.” Aiden’s voice remained neutral and it alerted Tara to something else.

“You need a bit more rest.” Chibs slipped his arms underneath Aiden’s now clothed armpits and hoisted her up off the table to stand on her own two feet. She wobbled at first and then braced herself on his shoulder. “Chibs will help you for now.”

“Thanks.” Aiden blushed slightly as Chibs wrapped an arm around her waist. She glanced over at the table and noticed the tarp. “I’m sorry I bled everywhere.”

* * *

 

Both Aiden and Chibs were silent as he helped her down a hallway to one of the back bedrooms. She grasped the doorknob several times in efforts to open it her grip, however, faltered several times and Chibs eventually opened it instead. 

Once they were inside, Chibs made sure she was comfortable on the bed after he closed the door. Aiden glanced around shortly to take in her surroundings. Only a dresser and a small closet contained the few belongings in the room and the bathroom was to her left. The walls were covered in wood and a Sons of Anarchy banner was pinned to the slanted ceiling behind the bed. 

“What’s your real name?” Aiden asked softly as Chibs sat on the left side of the bed. He met her muddy brown eyes  and smiled lightly.

“Fillip.” He dropped the rest of the way onto the bed without hitting her. “What’s yours really?”

“Legally, it’s Aiden.” She smiled again which irritated a cut on her mouth. “Rescued by the Original Sons of Anarchy charter?” She chuckled lowly, “I must be lucky.”

Chibs rolled onto his side to face her. “What do you know about us?”

Aiden felt around for a blanket and pulled it over her even though someone had dressed her in a Sons sweatshirt and black sweatpants. “I used to know a member of your Vermont charter. I know basics about club life that’s about it.”  Her eyes shut and she pulled the remaining pillow into her arms. “Thank you Fillip.”

 


	3. In the Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: see previous chapter.
> 
> i know there is no VT charter on it's own. this fic was written before the knowledge of the New England charter system.

Her old night terrors came back with a vengeance. She knew she was done for as soon as they started.  At first, Chibs believe it would go away but the soft whimpers turn into hard tremors beside him. He didn’t want to shake her because of her injuries. She stopped shaking for a moment and mumbled in sheer, unbridled terror and then the shakes resumed.

“Aiden,” His whispers turned into a shout, _“Aiden!”_

A harsh sob stuck in her throat as she shot up out of the bed. Literally. Chibs fell out of the bed and slammed his arms on the hard floor. He barely noticed despite the sharp pain that coursed throughout his body. His eyes fixated on Aiden who stood with both feet flat on the bed her hands, feet and face were drenched in sweat and had paled considerably in color. Chibs stood slowly and instinctively held his hands up. She continued to stare at the door until he sat on the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees and then brought her feet to the floor and turned to look at him. Her pupils had dilated to the point where they nearly filled her eyes.

Aiden said nothing as she stood and wobbled her way to the bathroom. She closed the door and turned the tap on full blast.  Chibs, meanwhile, dug around for the prepaid phone he’d placed on top of the dresser.  He flipped it open and started to punch Jax’s home phone in when he glanced around. The clubhouse was dead.  He closed the phone and groaned at the time. Two thirty six.  He had an inkling of what was happening to the girl and returned the phone to its spot.

He groaned lightly and fell back to his side of the bed. Chibs wasn’t angry per say, he was more worried about Aiden who had started to throw up a few minutes before.  His head turned once the sound from the tap ceased and the door creaked open.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” She had gained a little color back in her face. “And I didn’t throw up in your sink.”

He chuckled at the last bit and pulled the covers down for her to come back to bed. She tripped once she got to the edge of the bed and apologized a she shifted the covers over them. He was about to protest when she curled into his chest and draped his arm over her.  He chuckled and made sure not to disturb her. 

“Good night.”

* * *

 

The sound of deep laughing and billiard balls clacking roused her out of bed.  She coughed as the familiar smell of cigarettes and musk filled her nose.  She tensed for several long moments underneath the sheets until her head caught up with her body.

“Fuck.”  She groaned aloud. She’d woken Chibs… _Fillip_ up with her night terrors. He had calmly taken the situation and brushed it off. The thought of that irked Aiden. She must’ve looked like someone who had just escaped from the nut house.  She snorted as her mind drew her back to the Sons Burlington Charter. She had managed to stay out of their way until Milo had started his prospecting.

_Stupid Thatch._

She could still see his hurt expression as the local PD slammed her against the hood of their patrol car. She’d skipped court and that brought a kind of heat down on Thatch that still burned him, even as VP, to this day. Her arrest led to more than half of the charter to be busted on minor drug possession and was their second largest arrest in the charter’s brief history. Just below their arrests following the stabbing of a Death Row 35 member in Lyndonville.

Aiden stretched her arms above her head and kicked off the covers. She hissed at the amount of dull pain the simple action caused and continued until she fully stood up.  Her stomach protested loudly and was quickly shoved off to the thought of a hot shower.

Inside the claustrophobic shower stall, she grasped the soap and slathered it gently across her body in a half ass attempt to ward off infection. She leaned against the shower wall and remained under the spray for quite some time. Two knocks alerted her before the door opened and someone placed an extra set of clothes on the sink.

“Come out when you’re ready, hon.” She frowned at the unfamiliar female voice and waited until she lightly closed the door to wash her hair.

* * *

 

Thatch had, hands down, been her first love. He’d remained under their small town’s radar until his fifteenth birthday. His family had avoided the town as if it was infected with the Bubonic plague. Not of their own choice, of course. His father had been a ruthless and vile son of a bitch that had managed to invest heavily in the right stocks.

He hadn’t grown into his six foot four frame yet and tripped constantly on his bow legs.  His shaggy black hair had grown past his shoulders and hid his sunken eyes.  The first thing he saw was the Reaper on the cut of the then ailing VP, Bill Thomson, as the rode past him.  Thatch lifted his left arm up to flag them down for a ride and Bill, who had tried to extort money from Thatch’s dad three years before, stopped and waited for the nearly feral boy to catch up.

Thatch’s mother, Go rest her soul, had passed on shortly after having her twins that brought her number of children up to six. Thatch was the oldest and often took care of his siblings so his mother could rest. The big C took her and left a hole in his heart that could never be filled. She was Thatch’s only protection from his father and once she died… his father stepped up his abuse.

It was Bill that taught him how to ride, in the barely legal way, and Thatch in turn allowed the Club onto his family’s land.   He was still trying to make it up to Bill and this, he felt, was one of the best ways to get on the right side of the charter.  It was their unofficial second clubhouse until Thatch was patched in.

Aiden wiped away tears that had started to fall and pushed herself away from the wall. She managed to grab the shower knob and turned the water off after she had pulled the curtain aside.  She vehemently towel dried her skin around the areas of her bullet wounds and tossed it to the floor.  She wiped the mirror clean of the built up fog and brushed her teeth with a finger dabbed with toothpaste.

She glanced down at the pair of black jeans and SAMCRO tank top the woman had left on the counter. The woman _definitely_ wasn’t a crow eater. _An old lady perhaps?_ Aiden didn’t dwell on it for long and slinked into the clothes the top irritated her. It was scratchy and uncomfortable as if it had been in the dryer without a dryer sheet. She shrugged to herself and found the sweatshirt she had worn earlier was gone from its place on the back of the door. When she had had the presence of mind to hang it there, she couldn’t remember.

“Are you alright?” Aiden jumped a bit at the voice on the other end of the door. She’d been spacing about Thatch again.

“Y..yeah.” She recognized the voice. “Are you Juice?”  She hated the sound of her shy, coarse voice. “Can I ask you for something?”

“Only if you open the door.” He teased as Aiden almost begrudgingly pulled it open. She had nothing against Juice, but she was hoping to speak to Fillip before any of the other SAMCRO members. He smiled brightly at her as she picked up her used towel. “What do you need?”

She knew this was more of a question for a Prospect and felt bad for asking, “Can I have another sweatshirt?”

Juice chuckled and rested his hand on her shoulder to direct her out of the bathroom. “Of course,” She tossed the towel in a hamper outside of the bedroom. A crow eater quickly came over and cleaned it out. “But Chibs left you one of his jackets.” Juice stopped at the end of the hall and snagged a jacket off the back of a chair and handed it to her. “He said you’d be... uncomfortable without it.”  He, bless his heart, tried not to stare at Aiden’s scars that littered her arms as he helped her into the worn jacket.

“Thank you Juice.” Aiden whispered and kissed his cheek. She smiled as he blushed and lead her through the main part of the clubhouse and out the front door.

 


	4. Talk to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't own soa, only my ocs.
> 
> again, i can tell i wrote this in 2013....

Get out.”

He watched as the crow eater struggled to stand with a slight sigh. He cleared his throat, tossed his covers off to the side and stood over the petite girl. A deep growl rumbled out from his chest as his hand shuffled for a pack of Marlboro Reds and his Zippo on the nightstand. She knew. Just like all the others before her. They had no chance. No chance of rising up to Old lady status with him.

He lit two and slammed the pack back onto the stand beside his glass ash tray. He smiled fondly at the misshapen fogged glass. His brother had made it for him after he’d burned a hole through his old cloth protector on his seventeenth birthday. The smile quickly faded and his mind drew back to the Mayan prospect that had stood over the boy’s dead body.

 _To the mirror._ His mind was awfully sarcastic that morning. _Right._ His eyes glanced to the marble sink below the stained glass. _I forgot to take my crazy pills._ His large, marred hands struggled to open the medicine cabinet propped against the wall. How many weeks had it been since he ripped it off?

He hissed as one of his cigarettes burned through the filter and lightly burned his upper lip. _Guess it’s a good thing I shaved._

“Thatch?”  He gently rested his head on the space where the cabinet used to be.  His head throbbed with the beginnings of a dull hangover and his throat burned from taking his pills dry. He swiped his bangs out of his face and cupped a hand underneath the ancient faucet.  “You awake, Boy?”

“Ja,” His right hand felt around for the button of his black jeans. He turned and met his President’s gaze. “I just got up though, Bill.”

The middle aged man chuckled and snatched Thatch’s Marlboros before he could protest. Thatch stood in near awkwardness over the man as grey eyes scanned over his half naked form.  “Crow eater barely made a dent.”

Both men laughed loudly until Bill suffered through another one of his usual coughing jags. Thatch eased open the sliding glass door beside his bathroom and led the man out.

\--

“You have to stop.” Thatch motioned to the pack Bill had placed on the iron patio table. His arm crossed over the diameter of the table to light the other man’s cigarette. “These things will kill you.”

“Liver cancer ain’t teachin me how to river dance, Boy.” He smiled at Thatch with his few remaining teeth. “And the chewing tobbaca is keepin my teeth pearly white.”

Thatch shook his head and flicked the ash from his cigarette into a watering pail overflowing with cigarette butts. “What did you really want to talk about Old Man?”

Although the smiled had faded from his face, it still remained in his eyes. “I don’t have much time left Boy,” He paused and glanced out across the brown lawn, “You and I both know that.”  He stubbed his cigarette out on his boot and flicked it into the pail, “I wanted you to know that I trust you. You can lead this charter away from all the shit I dragged it into.”

Thatch let the rest of his cigarette burn between his fingers. “You did what you thought was right and I backed you in all of those decisions.”  He clicked the top of his Zippo a few times.

“Not all of them.” A frail hand caught his and dropped the Zippo to the table. “I only have a few more rides left in me. A month I’d say to live.” Bill glanced away for a moment to calm himself. “My decision with the Mayans is what put all this shit between us, Milo.” He cleared his throat and watched as Thatch’s blue eyes lingered on the older man’s wrinkled face. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for all of that. All the people you’ve lost because of my mistakes…”

“I still have the club.” Thatch’s voice rumbled and effectively cut Bill off. “Aiden will come back in due time.” A small smirk stretched across his face. “But Bill… I already forgave you a long time ago.”  
  


* * *

 

Aiden shielded her eyes from the mid-morning sun with the back of her burned left hand. Juice stopped leading her for a moment and turned to face her.

“I think he has sun glasses in the inside pocket.” He patted his chest to show her where and she nodded in thanks. “I thought you were dead.”  He quickly tried to rephrase but she shook her head and smiled.

“I was thinking the same thing.” She smiled sadly as looked down at her bare feet and made a mental note to ask for shoes before she left the lot. “Thank you for…”

Juice glanced down at the girl. She was just barely over five foot four without her shoes on. He watched as she struggled to find words. “It’s not a problem.” She nodded, relieved that he’d helped her off that awkward hook. “Chibs is out right now but I’ve been ordered to bring you to Gemma.”

They walked the rest of the way to the Teller-Morrow office in silence. Aiden nearly sighed in relief. She’d never been the one for talking or pretty much any social interaction. 

“You must be Aiden.” Juice motioned for her to step towards the older brunette and headed back towards the open garage. “My son, Jackson and his Old Lady told me about you.” Aiden reached out and shook Gemma’s hand with a weak grip, a fact the older woman noticed immediately. “Have you eaten anything?” She shook her head no and tried to grasp for a hood to cover her not quite bald head. She shrunk back into the office as a brown bearded man approached.

“Is Clay around?” He turned to Gemma after giving Aiden a polite smile. He said nothing as she continued to back into the office.

“He’s out with Jax.” Gemma motioned for the man to remove his black beanie and he stepped closer to hand it to Aiden.  “This is Opie.” She moved away which left Aiden completely exposed to Opie’s outstretched hand.

“She shouldn’t leave the garage Gemma,” He watched as Aiden slowly crouched down and grasped the edge of the beanie with her right hand. “She’s still terrified.”

Gemma frowned as Aiden slipped the extra-large beanie onto her scalp. “I don’t blame her.”

“I’m sorry.” Aiden whispered as she slinked back to the desk in the office. “This is just a lot to process…”

Gemma nodded and closed the office door once Opie left. “No one in this club is going to hurt you.” She gently rested her hand on the girl’s left cheek. “But this fear is from more than just the shooting.”  Aiden bit her lip and slipped into a pair of flip flops she’d spotted on the floor. “Come on hon, I’ll take you into town for something to eat.”

* * *

 

Thatch stood on the spacious front porch and watched as the remaining club members made their way off his property. Bill sat on the white porch swing and moved to make space for him. He had far too many worries bouncing around in his brain to handle.  The only man he truly had left was dying right before his eyes. It killed him inside.

“Can I ask you something?” Bill whispered as Thatch lit up his seventh cigarette of the day. “What happened between you and Aiden?”

His blood cooled and his scarred right hand started to tremble. “I became my father for a night” He could almost taste the vomit threatening to force its way up. “The night I broke my hand I slapped her.”  The front law had maintained some green and the tall pine trees that hid the clubhouse from the road masked the cracked asphalt drive. “Well… I did much more than that.”

Bill waited. He always listened when his VP spoke about his father. The man had nearly killed his children by setting their house on fire. He locked them all in a closet and shot himself in the master bedroom. The fact his stoic VP ever admitted any of his past to him was a miracle. He turned and took in the sight of Thatch’s head cradled in his palms, his cigarette burned in between his index and middle finger. He rested his thin boney hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I’ve tried my whole life not to be like him.” The raven haired man sat up and took another drag. “And in one moment all of my self-control left.” His right hand gestured to the lawn in front of him. “I almost killed her, Bill.” He coughed and gasped. “I almost fucking killed her.” Years of suppressed tears streamed down the VP’s face. “I lied earlier.” Thatch choked, “She’ll never come back.” He put his cigarette out with the heel of his combat boot. “I beat her face in… _raped_ her… Jesus _Christ_ Bill.” He stood up and turned to the man who had saved his life. “What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

* * *

 

Aiden picked at her plate of fries before Gemma brought her across the street to Floyd’s to shave her head. The older man didn’t question her and mostly talked to Gemma for the ten minutes it took to cut off the patches of hair.  She was glad to leave and return to the garage once she put her beanie back on. 

“Clay will be there when we get back.” She hung up her phone and rested it on the dash of her car. “Chibs will be there too sweetheart.”

She nodded and removed Chibs’ sunglasses once the came closer to the grey entry gate. “Thanks of taking me out Gemma.” The other woman pulled of her own sunglasses as she pulled into the lot. “I needed to get some fresh air.”

Chibs jogged to the car and opened the door for her while Clay helped Gemma out of the other side. She squeezed the Scotsman’s gloved hand once and allowed him to lead her back towards the clubhouse.

She hoped he couldn’t hear the calming breaths she took as they approached the Redwood table. Gemma stopped before the doorway and gave her one last look before Clay shut the door from the inside.


	5. Underneath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't own soa, only my ocs. 
> 
> I generally get my names for each of my fanfics from songs. I forgot to mention that the title of this fic is based off of the song “Don’t Go” by Terminal Choice. I just happened to be listening to the song when I started the first chapter and it seemed to fit. 
> 
> my spanish is also extremely rusty. and some of it is googled.

_What the hell am I going to say?_

Aiden swallowed slowly as Clay motioned for her to approach him. Just from listening to Gemma and Floyd’s brief chat, the mother charter was neck deep in shit. The VP’s son had been born prematurely with a hole in his heart and in his stomach. She’d been relieved to hear that the baby was alright.

Aiden glanced over to Jax with a shaky smile then looked at the rest of the men gathered at the table.  She’d caught the names of the two men she barely recognized in passing; Tig, who refused to drop her gaze until she looked at the other, much older man, Piney. Her eyes shifted to Opie who gave a soft half smile and rubbed his dark brown hair with a gloved hand.

She gently set her hands, palms down, on the Redwood table and stared at the Reaper carved into it. She closed her eyes and exhaled firmly through her nose. The Reaper had gained many negative connotations in her mind in recent years and now, with the blood of Opie’s old lady still seemingly fresh on everyone’s minds. She kept her suspicions of the Club’s involvement to herself.  

“ ‘s alright Darlin.” Jax whispered and Chibs reached over to place his hand on hers. She nodded and turned her head to Clay and then back towards the whole group.

“The Mayans attacked the Burlington charter a few years back.”  Aiden bit her lip and curled her blunted nails into the table. “They attacked the President and the then candidate for replacement VP.”

“I heard nothing about this.” Clay’s brows furrowed.

“Thatch brought the vote not to tell you to the table and it passed.”  Brown eyes scanned over Clay’s face. “They shot his younger brother to death in front of him and pinned him to a picnic table.”

Jax’s ringed right hand dragged down his face and Piney crunched a cigarette in his hand. “Where were you when this was going on?”

“On the ground.” She pulled one of her hands away from the table and pulled Chib’s jacket closer to her. He noticed but said nothing. “They’d raped me in the house for about an hour and dragged me outside by my ankles.” Tears welled up in her eyes, “They made him watch as they cut away my breasts.”

Even Tig was at a loss for words. Clay rested his head on his left hand after Jax slammed both of his down on the table. He clasped the underside of the table with his right hand and inhaled. “Why?”

Aiden shook her head and drew back to the wall. Sunlight streamed in from the small uncurtained window. “It’s not my place to say.”

“That _bullshit._ ” Chibs startled her as he stood up.

“It’s true.” She held her hands up and pressed her back hard against the wall. “I can’t….” Chibs frowned and cracked his shoulders to calm down before he held his hand out to her. She shook her head and stayed firm. “The force of the attack caused me to miscarry.” That wasn’t entirely the truth but it would do for now.

Jax muttered “Jesus Christ” for the millionth time under his breath as Chibs tried again to coax her away from the wall.

“I came to California to find them.” Her hands shook as she pulled at the edge of the leather jacket’s sleeves. “I came to kill them and I messed up. That’s why you found me on the side of the road.”

Piney inhaled some of his oxygen and kept his eyes closed. Tig’s eyes landed on Clay who hadn’t lifted his head from his hand and Opie’s fingers interlaced as he looked to Jax.

“The President of the charter..” Clay paused, “Bill Thompson. I heard he was ill.”

“He’s got liver cancer.” Aiden wiped her face with the back of her hand, “Terminal. When I left I’d say he had a few months left.”

“And the VP?”

Aiden’s upper teeth nearly tore her bottom lip off as she suppressed her memories and anger. It took her a moment to respond, “He’s a good man. Been through a lot of shit though.”  She exhaled sharply, “I need some air.”

“Go.” Clay waved his right hand and she fled with no regards on how hard the door slammed behind her.

* * *

 

Chibs cleared his throat and rapped on the door to his room. There was no answer so he slowly pushed it open with his foot and poked his head through. He noted the bathroom door was closed and decided against his original decision to open it.

Gemma knocked lightly and he waved her in.

“Shite Gemma,” his left palm pressed to his forehead to suppress his headache.

Gemma watched the Scot drop to his bed and rub his temples and then made her way to the bathroom.

Aiden opened the door a crack and peeked through it. She noticed Chibs on the bed and frowned. Gemma sighed and pushed the door until the mid-twenty something steered clear of it.  “Come.”  It was a use of her power as Mother Superior.

Chibs turned his gaze to the two women and refrained from saying anything. He kissed the backs of Aiden’s hands, slid a house key into Gemma’s hand, and then let go.

* * *

 

“I’m getting too old for this shit.” Bill chuckled under his breath as he shifted through the charter’s recent arrest and new member records. He had taken over Thatch’s duties so the man could get some form of his sanity back. What was worse, the mother charter had called an audience. He tried to think of a reason he would be forced to stand in front of the son of a bitch Clay Morrow and the high arrest rate was the only thing he could come up with.

“I heard.” The President’s brow furrowed as he set the paperwork aside. His VP had leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

“You know better than to tell a new prospect to relay a vague message.”  He noted the man’s elegant handwriting hadn’t faded with the cancer. “Clay wants to us.” He snorted and sucked on his septum, “Do you want me and Rick to go in your place?”

Bill shook his head with great trepidation. “I want to know why, after all these years, he wants to see us.”

Thatch questioned the man’s ability to make the trip but held his tongue. Besides, Bill always had a knack reading into him. Said he reminded him of himself twenty years ago.  Mid 90’s Bill must’ve been some fucked up kind of guy. 

“I can hear your doubt from here, boy.” He coughed into his dirty handkerchief and slipped it back into his cut’s inner pocket. “I’ll make it.”

“Just us?” Thatch rubbed his hand over his stubble and watched at Bill nodded once. “Alright, just tell me the day.” He coughed and shifted so his back was to the President. “I promise.”

Bill Thompson watched the Reaper on his VP’s back until it faded out at the end of the hallway. He exhaled slowly and fumbled slightly with the prepaid on the yard sale table that served as his desk. He dreaded these calls. His fingers hesitantly punched in the numbers and he held the plastic phone up to his ear.

“Hola,” H coughed slightly and ran his hand over his nearly bald head, “¿Puedo hablar con Marcus?”


End file.
